February 12ths
by qongo
Summary: It's not like he had usually made his birthdays a priority growing up, but old habits die hard. This was one of many he would have to learn to live without. Casey's first birthday without his girl by his side. Mid Season 3, Dawsey drama. One-shot.


_Hello all! This is just a quick one-shot in honor of the one and only Jesse Spencer's birthday today! This takes place right about now in the season of CF, minus Casey's recent transgression at the bar, which makes me so irritated I better just stop now. I encourage everyone to check out my other story, which many of you have been so graciously following, To Be Lied To. I have the fight chapter probably approaching complete, but I'm not quite ready to release it. It's a pretty climactic scene, so I'd really like to get it right. Hope you all enjoy this one, and please review! I'll take any feedback I can get! As always, I own no characters, themes, or events. _

You tended to not feel any real fondness for birthdays when your mother had killed your father right in the middle of your childhood and were attempting to grow up with that little skeleton in your closet. Someone usually tried to pick something up for him- a card from the neighbors, a new skateboard from an uncle somewhere-but there wasn't a lot of time for big celebrations or grandiosity. Odd as it sounded, he tended to nearly forget he had a birthday most years. It wasn't until he went to date an accident report or state his date of birth at a doctor's appointment in the month of February that it would occur to him his birthday was approaching. Then he would internally shrug and promptly forget again.

Until he met Gabriella Dawson. He didn't remember the exact first words they spoke to each other, as far as pleasantries and basic information exchange, but once they were further into a friendship, then a relationship, but he knew his birthday had been one of the first questions she asked him. So he pulled out his driver's license to check. The look on her face was priceless as he pulled it from his wallet.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, amused and slightly confused about the way she was staring at him. "You mean you don't celebrate your birthday?" He laughed slightly, not sure if this was a serious line of questioning. "Not exactly," he replied, "I'm a grown man, what, is someone supposed to bring me a new bicycle or something?" The look only intensified. Gabriella Dawson thought that was positively the saddest thing she had ever heard, especially after he explained the origins of his lack of sentimentality about the day.

From then on, and even more so once they were a couple, she made sure he knew it was his birthday every year on that date. Flowers, his choice of restaurants and movies, and some of the best sex they'd ever had were all trademarks of a February 12ths. Not only that, she made sure the entire firehouse and anyone not in life-threatening condition in the city of Chicago knew, too. It was excessive, and he felt a little ridiculous standing at a collapsed building scene having his girlfriend telling the police it was his birthday, but deep down it meant a lot to him. It was just one more thing he had never experienced as a child that she was trying so hard to make up for for him.

It was also just one more thing he guessed he should start getting used to _not _having anymore. He shrugged off his jacket inside the deafeningly silent apartment and kicked off his shoes. It had been a pretty routine day overall, a few calls, thankfully no fatalities. The most "exciting" part was probably hearing everyone talk about the cold like they may not live another day in the conditions.

He blew a deep breath out, ending in a sigh as he collapsed into the couch. If he could work consecutive shifts for the rest of his life, at this point he probably would. Coming home had become his least favorite part of every day. There was nothing for him here. There was always the Blackhawks, but even they had lost enjoyment for him. There was no one to talk about his day with, laugh with, have a beer with, confide in. It was just him sitting there, pretending his chest didn't still ache everyday in loneliness and loss. Even he had to admit this was a damn pathetic way to spend his birthday. He was just relieved for once Dawson hadn't broadcast it everywhere just to have to explain what he was doing tonight. Absolutely nothing.

He tried to avoid thinking about the whole thing; all it did was make him sad and long to get drunk. He had done far too much of that lately, so he was really trying to not dwell on it so much. She was gone, and she wanted to be, and who was he to take away the happiness she had found without him?

His cell phone buzzed in his coat pocket across the room. He slowly dragged himself off the couch, trying to recall exactly how old he was after all. He pulled it from his pocket, suddenly anxious to find Gabby's name on the screen. He answered it quickly.

"Gabby? Is everything alright, what's going on?" The moment of silence on the other end did nothing to quell his fears. A thousand terrible scenarios had already raced through his mind, so imagine his loss for words when all he got was a soft, "Happy Birthday, Matt." It was his turn to be speechless for a minute as he processed it. Eventually he let out a short laugh and slowly wandered back to the couch, perched on the arm. "I was starting to think you forgot." He teased, trying to not belie his loneliness. He was half-tempted to go blast some music to at least give the impression of not being quite so miserable. "Never," she replied quietly. He wasn't sure where to go from here in the conversation. He felt an obligation to continue it, but was at a loss for words. She broke the silence first. "I knew you weren't going to go throw yourself a big celebration so I didn't want to make a big deal of it, but I wanted you to know I remembered." He smiled softly to himself. It was nice to know sometimes she hadn't completely forgotten him. He had a feeling she knew this and it was precisely why she called.

"Well I appreciate it, Gabs. I do. No matter what happened in a year I've always known you'd be there on February 12th to wish me a happy birthday." He started to worry immediately he had taken it too far and entered awkward territory. Although, to be honest every word they spoke to each other was a firm citizen of the awkward territory lately.

"I," she stuttered, "I'd like to always be, Matt. You know I care about you, don't you?" She pleaded, desperate to know he still knew she thought of him constantly and would never not be concerned with him and his health and happiness. He paused, contemplating whether he did in fact know that. He decided he did. "Yeah, I know." He responded quietly. It was another tense moment before she returned, slightly more firm of voice then earlier.

"Well, I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to tell you I hoped you had a good day and that I...I thought of you." He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, gathering the strength in his voice to reply. _God, this was so hard. _He just wanted his girl back.

"Thanks again, it's always meant a lot, Gabby. It still does." They said their subdued goodbyes and hung up. He tossed the phone over his shoulder onto the couch, more mentally drained than ever. If he wasn't ready for bed before, he certainly was now. It's hard to believe how taxing cordial telephone conversations with someone you were planning the rest of your life with could be. He slowly changed out of his clothes and turned the light out before walking to his side of the bed in the dark. It was his routine every night, so he didn't have to see the emptiness of the other side and a few of her things still on the nightstand as he walked back from the switch. It was childish and he knew it, but no one else had to know. He was doing what he could to get by right now. He tossed for a minute before settling in to sleep. These days were all starting to blur. He just did what he could to still be the best firefighter he could every day and the most stable man every night. It was a struggle on both fronts lately, but that's life.

Just as it always had, his birthday passed with none of the pomp others' did, which was fine with him. The period of them being special again was clearly over, as evidenced by anything as by that phone call. Sweet as it was, it was just another sign that things would never be the same.

Happy birthday to him.


End file.
